


Three's a Crowd

by Cthulolita



Category: Block B, Winner (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:41:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cthulolita/pseuds/Cthulolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Namjoon, Jiho, and Minho have an interesting relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy my first posting on ao3 ^^

Namjoon’s eyes were glued to his phone screen, his dimpled smile deepening by the minute. He didn’t even notice when Jiho entered the room, or how long the older boy had been staring. Sitting in silence, Jiho waited for Namjoon to look up from his phone. But his patience quickly grew thin as Namjoon chuckled to himself and continued scrolling. 

“Joon,” Jiho sighed. Namjoon looked up from his phone, a little startled but still grinning. “What are you so giddy about?”

Namjoon didn’t respond. Instead he just passed his phone over to Jiho and bit his lip as he waited for Jiho to read.

“You searched your name on Twitter again. Shocker.” But Jiho grew silent as he read through the tweets:

“Omfg Namjoon, daddy buss this pussy wide pLEAD”

“I want to **** daddy Namjoon’s **** !!!””

“I’m so whet for joon daddy this morning an for why”

“Oppa I like it hit me more @ Namjoon water droplets emoji eye emoji”

Jiho looked back up at Namjoon, whose ego was practically visible, and shook his head. 

“This doesn’t mean you’re daddy.” Jiho huffed.

“It sure as hell do, aHA!” Namjoon shot an invisible basketball into an imaginary hoop and laughed.

“That’s not what it seemed like when I was bustin’ that b***hole lassnite.”

At this, Namjoon grew silent, sweat pooling on his forehead at the memories.

“Aha,” Jiho whispered, “Zi-a-co.”

Namjoon ran a hand through his short-as-fuck, too-short-to-run-a-hand-through kind of mint hair, looking like a fool. “Listen, it would be cool if you didn’t, um, mention that to people regularly.”

Jiho smirks at this. “Why baby? Ashamed of taking this zick? Masculinity so fragile?”

Namjoon looks into the camera like he’s on The Office. “No, idiot, I just don’t want my personal business out there, mayhaps?” He stood, looking agitated. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I get it. Calm down.”

“Okay,” said Namjoon.

“Okay,” said Jiho.

“Okay,” said Namjoon.

“Okay,” said Jiho.

They continued like this until the doorbell interrupted them. Still Namjoon whispered, “okay,” under his breath and Jiho shoved him into the wall as he passed by to answer the door. He opened it to see none other than Song Minho standing there will a pizza box. 

“Delivery from my dick~” he sing-songed, smiling.

“What are you doing here, man?” Jiho rolled his eyes as he asked the question to no one, since Minho was already strolling past him into the apartment.

“Namjoon,” he greeted.

“Heffer,” Namjoon responded, throwing a half-hearted nod.

“What kind of pizza did you bring?” Jiho joined them, stomach growling as he eyed the box in his friend’s hand.

“One filled with my love for you,” he smiled. 

Jiho took the oddly light box and sat it on the coffee table. “I’ll get us some drinks!” He seemed enthusiastic. As he left the living room, Minho sat at one end of the couch, Namjoon at the other.

“How’s it uh, going?” Minho tried. But Namjoon just looked at him dully. “Are you really not gonna talk to me?”

“I’m not really a fan.”

“Hoooookay...” Minho wasn’t really sure how to respond. “Someone’s panties are in a bunch…” he whispered to himself.

“What dude?”

“Nothing. Did I interrupt y’all’s dick appointment or something?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched as he stood. “What did you just fucking say?”

Minho smirked, keeping direct eye contact with Namjoon as he stood to meet him. “I said,” he whispered while bumping Namjoon’s forehead with his own, “did I interrupt you getting your ass split by Jiho’s dick? Is your ass dripping right now? Are you mad he’s giving me attention?”

It was at that moment that Jiho decided to return, Capri Suns in hand, but no one noticed. Minho went on.

“Are you mad he’s not grunting into your neck right now? Mad you won’t have some material to rap about, hiding it behind a song about some girl?”

“Shut your abnormally small mouth, fuckass.”

“Please, it’s fuckass hyung.”

That was all it took for Namjoon to snap. He pounced on Minho, tackling him onto the couch and straddling him as he brought his hands to the boy’s neck. “Stop. Disrespecting. Me. Like. You. Know. Me. N–”

He was cut off by a soft dripping sound coming from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to find Jiho standing, mouth wide open, hands squeezing the Capri Suns so hard that the contents were dribbling onto the floor.

“Hyung, I–“ Namjoon started, loosening his hands, but Jiho immediately shook his head, affectively silencing him. 

“This is… so hot. Fuck. Keep going.”

Both Minho and Namjoon deadpanned, “what?” at the same time.

“Oh, please,” Jiho rolled his eyes, “don’t act like I haven’t fucked you both. Due to the transitive property, you’ve already fucked each other. C’mon.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Namjoon mumbled, “actually the transitive property–” 

“Shut up.” Jiho and Minho barked in unison. “Just kiss him once,” Jiho continued.

Namjoon looked down at Minho, looked at his pretty eyes, his pretty teeth, his smooth skin. It wouldn’t be so bad, right? Like, he’s a good-looking dude even if he is a fuckass.

“Nah.” Minho interrupted his train of thought. “I’m not kissing anyone until you finish saying what you were saying earlier. ‘Stop. Disrespecting. Me. Like. You. Know. Me. N–’? Finish it, Namjoon. What were you about to say?”

“What? I don’t remember.”

“Yes you do you damn fool. You were about to say the n-word!”

“No dude, I was saying naega. Naega! Naega che chalaga.”

“I can’t be doing this I can’t be associating with you if you’re gonna be doing that in 2016 and neither can hyung. We got too much shit to deal with as is we need to create our own problematique scandals and–”

Namjoon cuts him off with his lips, sealing them softly over Minho’s, hands moving from his neck to cradle his face. Minho kept his eyes open, squinting at the younger boy but not completely hating the way it felt. Namjoon was a sloppy kisser and Minho liked that. Drool dribbled down in between them and clung to Minho’s ugly pants, the “Huge Boy” printed across the crotch being decorated with excessive amounts of saliva. Eventually he let his eyes close and he kissed back, letting tongue slip in here and there, biting the other’s plush bottom lip. His arms hooked around Namjoon’s neck then traveled down his back, kept traveling down his back, wouldn’t stop traveling down his back, searching…

“Dude, what the fuck,” he murmured wetly as Namjoon moved to nibble his neck, “where the hell is your ass? I feel like I’ve been searching for hours.”

“Shut up, dick.” Namjoon bites down, sucking the skin under his ear. Minho lets a small moan escape him before he looks over Namjoon’s shoulder to see Jiho. He expected to see his hyung watching them adamantly with his hand down his pants or something, but the boy was just hungrily eye-fucking the pizza box, silently sliding it off the table and headed toward his room.

Idiot. Minho thought as Namjoon made his way back up to his lips, attempting to grind his hips down onto Huge Boy. Minho laughed out loud, splattering Namjoon’s spit onto every inch of the boy’s face. He couldn’t help it. “Boy what was that!!! Felt like a writhing floppy fish outta water. Nah. Nahhhh. Nah.” He pushed Namjoon off of him and got up before jumping around in an attempt to air dry his Namjoon-contaminated clothes. 

“Bitch, what? You can’t handle it?” Namjoon smirked. 

Minho looked into the camera like he was on The Office. Just then, a scream filled the entire apartment. It was Jiho, yelling from his room. 

“Song Minho! This box ain’t nothing but crumbs! Punk ass fool come here!”

Minho grins at Namjoon. “Daddy calls,” is all he says before floating down the hall. Namjoon hears a door slam shut, yelling, and then eventual silence. He rolls his eyes. Typical. 

Sighing, he looks out of the grimy window. “What does a man have other than his own hand and his own heart?” he asks the bird shit stain on the windowsill. He unzips his pants.


End file.
